Snow in July (29 page)

“Lad, he has a hard enough time with the small estate he’s got. Think of that outlaw band. They built their encampment under his nose, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.”

“Couldn’t…or wouldn’t?”

“What, exactly, are you implying?” Waldron’s tone turned as flinty as his stare.

“I have no proof yet, my lord, but I suspect the outlaws were working for him.”

“’Tis a most serious charge to lay upon my kinsman. I presume you have good reasons?”

“I do, sir.” Alain held up a finger to discuss the first of many points he had omitted from his earlier recounting of what had happened at Glastonbury Tor. “The cavern I mentioned was stuffed to bursting with treasure.”

“From the outlaws’ raids, of course. So?”

“It appears to have been left untouched, even the mountains of coins, as if the outlaws had been ordered not to use it.”

“How much are you talking about?”

Alain closed his eyes to summon the memories and had to squelch the sweet memory of Kendra’s kisses and curves. “Enough, perhaps, to pay a sizeable army for a year.”

“Sizeable?”

“An army large enough to put a Saxon back on the throne.”

He omitted his speculations about where that army might be mustering; no need to alarm the thane about that just yet.

Waldron gaped as Alain continued, “Then there is the matter of Kendra’s locket. Ulfric claimed he recovered it off the body of one of the outlaws, but who’s to say the man didn’t give it to him because he was in Ulfric’s employ?”

“Pure speculation. You cannot build a case on that.”

“No, I cannot. But if Ulfric is innocent of what I suspect, then why would he have tried so hard to kill me?”

“What!”

“Twice.” Another memory intruded, and Alain felt his eyes stretch wider. “Perhaps even thrice. Ruaud and I were attacked at an inn on the way to Edgarburh.” He recalled the odd packet of dried petals he’d found on the guide’s body. That had to have been what Kendra had used to heal Alain’s wounds: the Glastonbury thorn, she’d called it. Not to mention the large animal prints Alain had found afterward—the same prints, he realized, that had surrounded the man who’d been murdered on the moor. “I am certain the guide we’d hired in Sarum led us into an ambush. Somehow Ulfric must have found out about my other mission.”

“Other mission? What other mission?”

“Regent Odo received several complaints from the outlaws’ victims, and he charged me with setting the matter to rights.”

“Hence your disguise,” Waldron concluded. “And your avidness to trail the outlaws by surrendering to them.”

“Kendra figured into both plans too.” Alain drained his goblet and poured another cupful. “I wasn’t keen on the marriage idea at first, so I embraced the disguise as a way to buy time before making my final decision.”

“You would have disobeyed the king?” Waldron sounded aghast. “And rejected my daughter?”

Shame fixed Alain’s gaze upon the goblet. “I had my reasons.” Reasons that seemed petty compared with his burgeoning feelings toward her. “Please forgive me, sir. I intended no disrespect toward either of you.” He looked up. “My decision to accompany the outlaws was motivated by my fervor to rescue your daughter.”

Waldron rose, crossed to the window, and looked out over Edgarburh’s bustling thoroughfare. “Now you believe she needs rescuing again and have returned to enlist my help.”

Alain joined him at the window in time to see a heavily laden wagon lumber to a stop near the kitchens. The driver and his assistant jumped down and sauntered around to the back to begin unloading the crates and barrels, while several servants emerged from the kitchens to help them.

“I have no wish to worry you, sir, but I am concerned that Ulfric will not let Kendra go without a struggle.”

“So am I, Alain.” Waldron faced him, determination conquering the worry in his gaze. “Go. Take my men, provisions, weapons, horses—whatever you require.”

“You will not come with me?”

Waldron sighed. “Although Ulfric and I claim kinship, my open support of King William has made me less than popular with him and his allies. Besides, this is your fight. All I ask is that you bring my Kendra safely home.”

“I shall, sir.” Alain felt his lips thin to a grim line as he prayed with all his heart for increased measures of strength, luck, skill—whatever it would take to fulfill this vow.

THE DOOR swung to. The candles flickered, casting the cottage back into gloom.

Ha, old? Ha-hold?
Kendra squinted at the ailing man, mouthing the words he’d spoken.
Old go in sin? Go in sin? Go—

Stifling a cry with the back of her hand, she rose from the chair and dropped to her knees at his feet, scarcely noticing that Ethel struggled to follow her example on age-stiffened joints. “Please forgive me for not recognizing you.” Shame bowed her chin to her chest. “Your Majesty.”

The man who, until the fourteenth day of October in the year of Our Lord one thousand sixty-six, had embodied the final hope of the Saxons’ cause, rested his hand atop her head in silent absolution: King Harold Godwinson.

Chapter 16

“
O
UTRAGEOUS!”

The king crumpled the parchment and hurled it into the hearth, where it hit the embers and ignited. Bishop Odo thanked God for inspiring him to order his scribe to craft a copy.

“Who do these Saxon miscreants think they are?” William braced his hand on the hearth stones, staring at the fire. “I show them mercy, and this is how they show their appreciation.”

Habit forged by their years-long friendship—in spite of being half brothers—drove Odo across the slate floor of William’s private reception chamber to clasp the shoulder that bore the burdens of two realms.

“The demonstration of mercy is always a sound policy in God’s eyes, Will. I pray you do not regret your decision.” Odo gave that broad shoulder a companionable squeeze before releasing his hold. “But some policies require more patience.”

“Patience?” William snorted and turned his back on the fire, feet spread and arms crossed. “Hah. We are not at war, and yet I have taken up residence on this side of the Channel for mere days before being bombarded with ransom requests.”

Odo cocked an eyebrow. “I would not consider one letter ‘bombardment.’ And this isn’t a ransom demand. Thane Waldron reported that your knight and the knight’s squire suggested the ploy, with the intent of rescuing Waldron’s daughter.” He stopped short of voicing his suspicion that William hadn’t bothered to read anything other than the word
ransom
.

“Waldron.” William stroked his blond-bearded chin. “Waldron…why does that name sound so familiar?”

“You decreed that Sir Robert Alain de Bellencombre become betrothed to Thane Waldron’s daughter, Lady Kendra.”

“Of course. But…” With his index finger, William rubbed the bridge of his nose, a familiar sign of deep concentration. “There’s something else about that name…”

Glad he’d made inquiries prior to this audience, Odo said, “Thane Waldron Edgarson of Edgarburh attended your coronation to swear fealty to you and to present a rather unique petition.”

William’s expression lightened. “Ah, yes. He claimed his son was ambushed and mortally wounded by one of my knights.” He tilted his head. “What was the investigation’s result?”

Odo sighed as he strove to craft a tactful response. The bonds of friendship with powerful men could stretch only so far. “If you gave the command, Will, it was never recorded.”

That wrenched a rueful laugh from William’s throat. “In other words, I was too caught up in the coronation festivities to act upon the thane’s request.” Grinning, he raised both hands in mock surrender. “Guilty, Father Confessor. But if you dare breathe a word of this to another soul…” Seriousness eclipsed his countenance, and he rested his fists on his hips. “Might this matter be related to de Bellencombre’s ransom?”

“I don’t know.” Odo battled the temptation to chide William for not fully reading the missive. “Waldron did not mention Sir Robert in his letter.”

“What? Where is he, then? I’d have expected him to be the first to go charging after the men who’d abducted his bride.”

“Perhaps.” Odo scrunched his shoulders. “But I had ordered Sir Robert to investigate reports of outlaw activity and gruesome deaths in the region, and I have not heard from him since he left Winchester, almost a fortnight ago.”

William’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Sir Robert probably would have attended to that mission before wedding the woman. So he’s either still pursuing the outlaws, or—God forbid—they have bested him. But if the latter is true, then why would they not have sent a ransom demand for him?”

“That’s what I’ve been puzzling over,” Odo admitted, “and why I chose to bring this matter to your attention.”

“I don’t blame you.” William’s quiet tone suggested he might have made similar choices, and it heartened Odo. “So, who is this other knight Thane Waldron mentioned?”

“Sir Ruaud d’Auvay.”

William clenched his fists, staring at the ceiling. “God’s bones in a gilt box!”

“Will…”

The king had the grace to look repentant for a moment. “D’Auvay is a fine frontline fighter; I knighted him myself years ago. But the man has never possessed a shred of subtlety or finesse, and both qualities would be necessary in rescuing the woman from these brigands against the level of odds I expect d’Auvay has had to face. De Bellencombre owns both traits in abundance, and is a shrewd soldier besides, but God alone knows where he is.”

Odo closed his eyes to offer a prayer for the safety of Sir Ruaud, Sir Robert, and Lady Kendra. The sharp sound of footsteps interrupted his petition, and he opened his eyes. William had already crossed half the distance toward the chamber’s door. “Will? What do you intend to do?”

William paused at the wall where his battle sword hung in its hard leather sheath, supported by two oaken pegs carved in the shape of lions’ claws. He removed the weapon from its perch as Odo strode closer to help William strap it in place.

Nodding his thanks, he said, “The very last thing I want to do is convey the impression that I don’t believe my knights are capable of handling themselves in difficult situations. That would foster rebellion faster than I could blink.

“But there are too many mysteries at work here: Lady Kendra’s abduction, Sir Ruaud’s surrender, Sir Robert’s disappearance, the death of Waldron’s son.” William enumerated the points on his fingertips. “All of those events are connected to Edgarburh.”

After adjusting the sword to more comfortably ride his hip, William met Odo’s gaze. “What I do will depend upon the answers Thane Waldron supplies me.”

“A state visit?”

William laughed. “God, no. That would take weeks to arrange, for Matilda would insist on coming with me, and she’d insist on having her say regarding who and what to bring.”

His expression sobered. “No, Odo, this venture shall include you and me and a company of my personal guardsmen. No wagons or pack animals; just what weapons and provisions we can carry upon ourselves and our horses.”

“It might also be wise to arrange for a division to mobilize quickly, if necessary,” Odo suggested.

William’s eyebrows knotted into a thick golden line across his forehead. “You believe there may be more afoot?”

“I’m not certain what to believe, Will. All I can tell you is that my sources have reported some unusual movements in the Glastonbury district.”

“Troops?”

Odo shook his head. “Pilgrim traffic has swelled, and many Saxon thanes and their entourages have been identified among the crowds.”

“Saxon pilgrims at Glastonbury?” William sounded incredulous. “Won’t Abbot Thurstin be surprised; I didn’t think the Saxons were a particularly pious lot.”

“My point exactly.” The bishop gave a lopsided shrug. “But we could be wrong about them. Worshipping the same God does make us all brothers in the Lord’s sight. As a precaution, I have the pilgrims’ camp under surveillance, but I don’t expect another report for several more days.”

Fingering his sword’s pommel, William strode to the man-size map of southern England—Odo’s jurisdiction whenever William resided abroad—hanging on the opposite wall. The king traced the route from London to Glastonbury, tapping his finger first on Sarum and then on Edgarburh.